Thoughts on Harry, by Virginia
by EliCa
Summary: As title, but with a little bit of extra fluff! It's more romance and humour on an equal footing too! RR


Thoughts on Harry, by Virginia (a name that goes out of fashion quite quickly)  
  
Just saying they kiss was enough for Shakespeare. Simply showing two people joined at the lips is good enough for visual media, but real life? When we first kissed? It was more than just a kiss, it was like fire.  
  
Probably because I'd had a pepper imp five minutes beforehand, but gad! It was good. I would say best ever, but then I'd have to mention all of the kisses we've shared since.  
  
To start with (after my first kiss), I didn't realise what all of the fuss was about. Kissing (properly) was a bit slobbery really for me. I wouldn't have persevered if the world went by my rules, but then I had another boyfriend, and so I kissed him too. It was a bit better, but still not pleasurable. Eventually after a few more males, it all improved and I became rather lustful. I wanted a snog (vile phrase) as much as any teenage girl.  
  
However, I really wasn't expecting it when it happened between him and me. We were just out sitting by the lake (I should have expected something really). He was seventh year, aged seventeen, and I was sixth year, aged sixteen. Anyhow, we were by the lake, talking. He was going on about his life, and asking me questions, you know how conversations work. Then it all went silent, then he laughed, so I laughed. If you're thinking 'these people sound a bit tipsy', that's because we were. Actually, we were seriously tipsy, really quite intoxicated, because it was a Christmas party, but I remember that night pretty clearly.  
  
We were laughing really hard, and the next thing I know, we're kissing by the lake, the most romantic setting in the world. As I said, it was the best kiss I'd ever had (at that point in my life) so I didn't want to stop. Luckily, nor did he, so we carried on until Ron found us. That was comical!  
  
Hermione and Ron were stumbling through the undergrowth together. Ron was leading a giggling Hermione towards me and Harry, who obviously hadn't noticed the mumbling coming from behind us.  
  
Then there's the sound of a crashing bush, and Ron screams. Hermione starts shouting 'what is it? What is it?' Harry and I stop kissing and hug. He stands up and holds out his hand to me, so we both get up and it would have been so perfect, but I slipped. Oh goodness I slipped, literally! I fell bottom first into the lake, pulling Harry down on top of me. He says,  
  
'That's a bit eager Gin!' Then he kisses me lightly on the lips, and helps me back up. By this time Ron has recovered his voice, and Hermione has taken off her blindfold (I don't want to know), and it's a kind of stand off. Ron looks like he wants to punch Harry, and I didn't think that Harry would be much good. He was soaked from falling in the lake, and he was drunk. The two don't match because when you're drunk, you can't really tell how cold you are. That's why I was pretty unconcerned about myself. That's why I'm to this proud and grateful to Hermione. Who said to Ron,  
  
'Leave it,' then continuing with 'you two, sober up and clean up. You'll catch pneumonia.'  
  
Wonderful girl. I think she calmed Ron down, because I never saw Harry have a black eye.  
  
I didn't see Harry again until the morning. This left me time to sober up, clean up (thank goodness for warm pyjamas. Love house elves, love house elves, love house elves) and ponder. Not quite so exact words at the time were  
  
'Feck feck feck feck feck' translating directly to:  
  
'Oh my goodness, what has just happened? The boy who I have had a sort of crush on for six years (although with breaks obviously) and I have kissed whilst we were drunk. What is tomorrow going to be like? My goodness, I think that it's going to be quite awkward. After all, we were both drunk. He may not actually like me at all. '  
  
Dilemma. Luckily, the next morning I got up quite late (11 in the morning. Still am!) and went downstairs to sit in the common room…still in my pyjamas (still warm, but because of me). Some other people were in there (dressed!), but someone else looked exactly how I felt. You guessed it. Harry. Exact thoughts are not worth repeating, but after several painful (literally) moments, I got up the courage to sit next to him on the sofa, in front of the fire.  
  
'Hello.' I said,  
  
'Hiya' he said, looking up briefly, then taking another sip of some water that he held tightly.  
  
'Hangover Harry?' I asked innocently.  
  
'Oh yes.' He replied. Neither of us appeared to be in the mood for conversation, so I broached the subject.  
  
'So, last night, what happened?'  
  
'You don't remember?' He said, definite panic detectable in his voice. I smiled. Perhaps my rather unladylike thoughts were unjustified.  
  
'I do actually. What are we going to do about it though?'  
  
'I was hoping we could do it again sometime, actually,' he said simply.  
  
'You mean, as partners, or as drunken pals?'  
  
'Former,' he said.  
  
'Good,' I replied.  
  
'So, are we going out then?' He asked, turning to face me, bloodshot eye and all. (Actually maybe it was slightly purple around the edges, but that could have been bags under the eyes).  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'Sorry though.'  
  
'Sorry?'  
  
'I'm not feeling to up for anything right now, so the most romantic thing I could do is shake your hand.' I laughed, took his hand, and went upstairs to get changed.  
  
Harry isn't the most romantic person in the world. I remember the first time we slept together, in the morning I was thinking, maybe some breakfast in bed or a 'Good morning' kiss. But no. He carried on sleeping. I had to prod him awake, but I ended up prodding him so hard he fell out of bed (I swear he has inner ear problems). First I saw of him was his dishevelled head, and the first words out of his mouth were  
  
'What you do that for?'  
  
I love him for that though. Well, I do ramble. I just wanted to get down onto paper my thoughts on Harry before the big day. Yes, this time tomorrow, I'm going to be Mrs Virginia Potter. My name sounds so old… (and doesn't really suit me any more) but Harry's name is quite old too. We're going to be Mr and Mrs Harold J. Potter. Harold and Virginia. Doesn't sound out of place in an Agatha Chrisitie novel. I want the first child to be called something equally outrageous, like Tabatha, or Ichabod. Definitely Ichabod.  
  
A/N Thanks to Bela for beta-ing this! I hope that you all enjoyed the story! 


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